


A Very Destiel Christmas

by Hatsonhamburgers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Jimmy Novak, Bottom Dean, Boys Kissing, Castiel in the Bunker, Christmas, Dean is a mooshy moosh moosh, Destiel Advent Calendar, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Kid Fic, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Oops, Sam Ships It, Smut, Teen Dean, Top Castiel, a lot of smut, being dicks, like after a massage happy ending wink wink, love on the carpet, mom ships it, oh well, omg Im sorry about the angst, some Uriel and another angel dude, this was supposed to be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8810014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsonhamburgers/pseuds/Hatsonhamburgers
Summary: It is the family's first Christmas in the bunker, and everything seems alright, but Dean has been tense since Mary came home with them.  Cas is holding back something from Dean, and with Mary's help, and a trip down Memory Lane, Cas is able to give Dean exactly what he needs for Christmas.A whole lot of unconditional love and downright smut- the gift that keeps on giving.





	1. Drawing Pictures

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time time being a part of the Destiel Advent Calendar! Yay!
> 
> I told the admin that i planned on making a sweet lil' fluffy Christmas fic and not write smut. 
> 
> I lack the ability to do either of these things, evidently. 
> 
> Thank you sooooo much to [rosie_berber](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rosie_berber/pseuds/rosie_berber) for making beautiful art for this and helping beta. Also my brand new friend [Pinkmink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmink) for her beta and all around hilarity <3

December 1982

 

Dean shoved his pudgy little 3-year-old hands into the box of ornaments before his mom could protest. A smile lit up his face and he squealed with joy when he pulled out the angel for the top of the tree. Mary shook her head and stroked her fingers through Dean’s short hair, tugging to get his attention.

 

“Now Dean,” she said with a small smile that betrayed her Grown Up voice, “be careful with that. Your grandmama gave that to me when I was a little girl and I really like it.”

 

Dean paused his admiration of the angel in the white silk robe to look up at his mother in awe. “You were little? Like me?” 

 

Mary threw back her head and laughed, then stooped down (as much as she could comfortably with her baby bump) to kiss Dean on the forehead, holding his shoulders for his full attention.

 

“You know Dean, you were named after your grandmama and that’s very special. Just like this angel. It’s very special.”

 

“Okay, mama.” Dean petted the blonde hair on the angel’s wooden head and pondered this. “Why do we put the angel on the tree, mama?”

 

Mary smiled and kissed his forehead again. “Because, baby, angels watch over us. Every day.”

 

Dean seemed to accept this and handed his mom the angel to put on the top of the tree. She stood on her tiptoes to place it there and looked back at Dean. But Dean was already busy dumping the rest of the ornaments out on the floor. Mary sighed and took his hand. “How about a snack, hmm?” Dean nodded happily and followed her to the kitchen.

 

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, watched all of this from the corner of the room, and pondered Mary’s words as well. It was true, at least in this case, that angels _indeed_ watched over the small boy, even if it was not a usual sanctioned mission. Castiel was disobeying by even being there. He was just so curious to see who this Righteous Man was. How he could fit into a small pudgy body really astounded Cas. That such a small form could contain the brightest soul Castiel had ever seen. Its power so strong Castiel could feel it radiating from the kitchen. 

 

Castiel thought deeply for a moment. Surely his Father wouldn’t mind if he were to stay for a bit, maybe a couple of human days and observe the boy who would one day be his charge. It was Michael he was more worried about. His older brother was a firm believer in discipline and consequences and adhering to orders without question. The last thing Castiel wanted was to be lumped in with Lucifer and be called rebellious, but the little boy’s soul called to him. It was so clean and pure. It confounded him that one day he would need to be rescued from Hell. He wasn’t privy to the rest of the prophecy, he understood that is was not his place to question the will of his Father. 

 

However...they didn’t tell him he _couldn’t_ investigate his mission before it was time. And wasn’t it very important to be prepared? Having made his decision, he left the house in a flurry of feathers and begun to look around for a suitable vessel. He thought back to the children at Dean’s preschool class at a nearby church, wondering if any would be an acceptable vessel, willing to house him for a few days. 

 

*****

 

The Novak family was moving. Again. There were boxes labeled and unlabeled, newspapers everywhere, Chinese takeout on the coffee table. Little Jimmy sat on the couch surveying the flurry of activity in the living room. His mother had gotten to that familiar point of packing where she had given up on order and was just throwing things in boxes. His mother was used to this, his father was used to it, but by no means was Jimmy used to it. Moving from town to town, hospital to hospital, trying to find a cure for Jimmy. More needles, more tests, more nurses with fake smiles covering pity. 

 

He was sad. Sad because this was his fault. Mom and Dad would be happy if it wasn’t for him being sick. It was because of him and his treatments that his parents argued constantly and that they never stayed anywhere long enough to even have a Christmas tree. 

 

Most of all he was sad because he was lonely. He never made friends because he was always in the hospital or in and out of daycare and didn’t even have time to remember other kids’ names before his family moved on. He just wanted one friend. He mostly wanted the stupid cancer to go away so he didn’t have to take the medicine that made his tummy hurt more than it already did. He was used to the dull ache in his gut, but the sharp pains from the medicine kept him up at night. The bags under his eyes were dark purple and he didn’t have the heart to tell his mom; he was already a big enough problem. 

 

Jimmy started in his seat. The living room was suddenly silent. His mother was frozen mid-pack, her eyes rolling at his father who had his hands on his hips. They were both still as statues. The boy gulped but didn’t move. 

 

The television crackled. As Jimmy watched, it came on by itself and filled with a constantly moving black and white fuzz. He frowned and squinted at it. It was quiet. He waited, heart thudding in his chest. 

 

_Jimmy Novak_

 

The boy flinched. The tv knew his name. 

 

_Jimmy, my name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord._

 

There was silence and Jimmy waited.

 

_Do you know what that is?_

 

The boy opened his mouth, but found he was unable to push out any sounds. He nodded instead.

 

_That is very good, Jimmy. You have always been a very good boy, and you should know that._

 

Jimmy just nodded again, coughing to clear his throat. “Am I going to Heaven now?” His voice quavered. “Mommy said I would go to Heaven and the angels would take me there.”

 

_No Jimmy, I am not taking you to Heaven. You are not ready to die. I will make sure of that. You are going to be given a chance to get better. Do you want that? To get well again?_

 

Jimmy nodded again, vigorously. If he could get well, maybe they wouldn’t have to move. Maybe they could stay where they were and he could make friends and play sports and do stuff the other kids do. 

 

_That’s very good, Jimmy. I need you to do something for me, if it’s okay with you._

 

“What is it?” Jimmy asked softly. He would do anything to get better so his parents would be happy again, but he knew strangers could be dangerous. 

 

_I need you to let me into your heart. I can remove the tumor in your intestine, but you must say yes, that I can come into your heart._

 

Jimmy tilted his head slightly and thought about it. It didn’t sound so bad. He was feeling a light happiness fill the air around him and he felt more relaxed and peaceful than he had in so long. It might be okay to let an angel into his heart if he could help. Jimmy really felt he had nothing to lose in his life so why not.

 

_I don’t want you to ever think that about yourself, James Novak. You are worth saving and I want to help you. When I do this, when you say yes, I will let you sleep inside your head and I will make sure you go to school tomorrow and help your mother pack. When your tumor is gone, I will leave._

 

“You don’t have to go, you can stay,” Jimmy said hopefully, “then we can be friends.” He felt a little ashamed that he would be so desperate to ask a stranger he couldn’t even see to be his friend.

 

_I’m sorry Jimmy. I have important work to do in Heaven. But…_

 

There was a pause. Jimmy got scared that the angel had left him. Castiel. That’s what he said his name was.

 

_Jimmy, I want you to know that if you ever need me- really need me- I will come help you. I will answer your prayer._

 

“Okay, Cas-tee-el,” Jimmy said softly. “I want you to come into my heart. Yes.”

 

********

 

Dean skipped down the sidewalk, swinging his mom’s gloved hand. His breath was coming out in little clouds as his feet slapped the salt-covered concrete. The man on the tv said it was going to snow tonight, and Dean was very excited. He didn’t remember ever playing in the snow- mama said he was too little last winter. But this year, he was a big boy, and he would get to play in the snow. 

 

The red brick church was only a block away from his house and walking with mama every day was a treat. Dean had a lunch box with Han Solo on it and a smile on his face when he entered his classroom. He liked his teacher, she was nice, and Dean liked the coloring station with the crayons. He took his coat off and shoved it into his cubby and ducked out of his Mama’s hug to make a beeline for the table. The other kids were busy playing and shouting and laughing. Dean grabbed some paper and a black crayon and started to work on his favorite picture. His Daddy’s car. It was big and shiny and Dean was getting better at drawing it every day. He knew if he could get it just right, he would give it to Daddy for Christmas. And then Daddy would hang it in the garage where he worked, next to the other pictures Dean had drawn for him of cars. It was kinda their thing. It was cool. 

 

Dean became so absorbed in his careful line-making that he didn’t notice when another child had joined him. He was wiping crayon crumbs off the paper and caught movement out of the corner of his eye and jumped. “Huh,” he grunted in surprise. The little boy that stood next to him- very close next to him was staring right back at him. He had large blue eyes and messy black hair. He looked very serious. Dean held his gaze wondering who would blink first. Dean blinked then grinned. The boy with the blue eyes smiled shyly and looked down. 

 

“I’m Dean. What’s your name?” Dean asked, turning his attention back to his work. 

 

“I’m Castiel,” said the boy, “I-I mean I’m Jimmy. Um.” 

 

Dean looked over at the boy who suddenly looked flustered, then shrugged.

 

“But you can call me Castiel.”

 

Dean smiled again and went back to work on his drawing. Cas seemed nice. Dean stopped, grabbed another paper and shoved it and a blue crayon in his direction. Cas’s eyes widened and he slowly picked up the crayon and rolled it in his hand. 

 

“You know how to draw?” Cas shook his head and continued to inspect the Crayola in his fingertips. Dean turned Castiel’s paper toward him and took the blue crayon back. 

 

“Here,” he said, “just draw a picture of your family. Here’s mine.”

 

Castiel watched very seriously as young Dean carefully made round bodies and circle heads of three people and lines for legs. Dean gave the crayon back to Castiel and smiled at him. “That’s me and Mama and Daddy. I’m drawing my daddy’s car for Christmas. You should draw a picture for your Daddy for Christmas.”

 

The blue-eyed boy broke into a grin and beamed at Dean. “Okay,” he said softly as he pulled out another piece of paper.

 

The rest of the day went by fast- lunch, naps, snack, and then the moms coming to get their kids. Dean was happy that his new friend Cas stuck by his side all day long. It was neat to have a friend to share cool things with. 

 

Dean’s mama came in and helped him get his coat on. She was talking to a lady with black hair who was standing with Cas. 

 

“Dean,” said his mom, “is it okay if Jimmy comes over to play?”

 

Dean’s face squinched up in confusion and then remembered that Cas was called Jimmy by his teacher too. “Okay, mama,” he said, pulling on his mitten and grabbing Cas’s hand, “you get to come to my house.” Cas beamed at him as Dean pulled him out the door into the cold to walk home.

 

“I’ll come get him for supper,” said the lady with the black hair, “I really appreciate it. We really need to get finished packing. If he complains about his stomach hurting, just give me a call, alright?”

 

Dean’s mom smiled sweetly as they exchanged numbers and followed their boys to the sidewalk. Cas’s mommy kissed him on the cheek and waved as she walked to the parking lot. 

 

The walk home went quickly, as usual. Dean pulled Cas through the kitchen and into the living room ignoring his mother’s admonishment for not taking off his boots first. He just had to show his new friends the tree. It was so beautiful and he knew Cas would love it. 

 

They stood in silence and admired the tall tree covered with large color lights and strung with cranberries. There were family ornaments with stars carved on them, and sterling silver drops hung delicately. They looked a little like knives to Dean. Dean watched Cas as he took in the beauty of the Christmas tree. His eyes were wide and shining and he was smiling softly.

 

“You know,” Cas said to Dean without turning to him, “Jesus’s birthday is really in April.”

 

Dean hummed, not knowing what to say to him. He was funny. And that was cool.

 

“You are such a weirdo,” Dean said finally, smiling, “but it’s okay, cause I like weirdos.”

 

Dean’s mom came in with her camera. “Would you boys stand by the tree so I can get a picture?” she asked. “That’s good, how about a smile Jimmy? Okay great!” She snapped the camera twice. “Now who’s ready for cookies?” 

 

“Me!” Dean exclaimed, running to the kitchen with Cas on his heels. This was going to be the best Christmas ever.


	2. Hoarders: Supernatural Edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xoxoxoxox

********

 

December 2016

 

Castiel stood awkwardly as the two Winchester brothers struggled to haul the oversized Christmas tree down the bunker stairs. There was a volley of name calling and snark, and even a few creative expletives as eventually the two gave up and flipped it over the railing to the floor. Sam threw up his sap-covered hands in exasperation at Dean’s loud cackles and thundered down the stairs the rest of the way, picking at his sticky fingers and mumbling about kerosene.

 

Dean ignore him and shot Cas a winning smile. He seemed so proud to have saved a few dollars by cutting a tree down in the woods behind the bunker. Cas questioned the need for such a large tree- or even a tree at all- and Dean admonished him for his lack of Christmas spirit. 

 

“It is confounding to me that you humans find it necessary to celebrate a pagan holiday to-”

 

“Cas!” Dean interrupted. “We talked about this. I. Don’t. Care. Christmas is fun and about family, so sign me the fuck up!” He childishly stuck his tongue out as Sam reappeared equipped with a rag and kerosene to clean off the sap, and a bitchface bordering on scowl. 

 

“Don’t listen to him, Cas,” Sam said, “Christmas is a commercial nightmare, where the masses wallow in opulence and greed, and are broke by the New Year.”

 

Cas huffed and crossed his arms, wondering if he could come up with an excuse to leave the bunker- a beer run, go get pizza, or kill some monsters, whatever- just to get out of there. It had been tense the last few weeks, what with Mary leaving to try and adjust to the world, and her eventual return. Dean was happy, but there was something else bubbling below the surface. Cas didn’t have to be at full power to know that eventually something had to give.

 

Mary walked in carrying a large bottle of Jim Beam and four tumblers. Castiel nodded gratefully as he accepted a large portion, tossing it back in one swift movement, earning a cocked eyebrow from both Sam and Mary. Dean seemed blissfully unaware as he maneuvered the massive pine into the library. Cas knew it was just him using his mastered skill of avoidance to ignore the unusually large pachyderm in the room. 

 

After a few beats of silence Mary addressed Cas.

 

“Castiel, would you like to go with me to Lawrence today?”

 

Cas could visibly see Dean’s shoulders tighten at her words. The hunter had been on edge since she got back, as if he feared her abandonment. Cas cleared his throat and kept his eyes from darting over to Dean.

 

“Yes, Mary, of course. Is there a hunt?”

 

Mary laughed nervously. “No, nothing like that. I had a storehouse near...near the house...and I have a few things I’d like to get- if they’ve survived all these years.”

 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Another Campbell storage hold?”

 

Cas could see Dean practically vibrate as he refused to turn around and acknowledge what was happening. 

 

“Yeah, actually,” Mary said, surprised, “we had quite a few- hey, how did you know about them?”

 

Sam froze, his brain apparently catching up with his mouth. Easy to forget the time you spent without a soul. Cas ran interference.

 

“It’s a long story,” he said, ushering her toward the door, “I’ll give you the highlights and I’m sure you will be filled in later. Do you want to take my truck?”

 

Mary laughed easier. “Yeah, if you let me drive.”

 

Cas tossed a glance over his shoulder and waved to Sam as they walked out the bunker door. Dean still had his back turned. Cas supposed Sam could handle his brother’s ire, as usual. It would be nice to get out for a while.

 

**

 

The drive was smooth- Cas had tried to enter the address into the GPS, which Mary rolled her eyes at, but the signal in Lebanon was pretty weak. Mary smirked and recited a turn-by-turn list of directions followed by an estimated time of arrival. The trip would take three hours and thirty-nine minutes. Cas laughed aloud for the first time in weeks. He liked Mary. 

 

They begun to trade stories with an unspoken pact not to veer into any “break the world” or “start the apocalypse” or “parents killed by demons and deals made” territory. She spoke of Christmas with her parents fondly and her eyes got a faraway look as she smile describing hunting a wendigo with her father on Christmas Eve when they had really just gone out to shoot mistletoe out of a tree, as was their tradition. Cas told her about missing the birth of Jesus because he was dragged away by his older brother, Gabriel, who was needing a diversion when he disappeared. Mary was crying with laughter as he described scaring a herd of camels into the village, and she touched his hand warmly when he confessed doing it because his brother was the only one in the Host who seemed to like him. 

 

They arrived before lunchtime and drove to a older storage facility on the outskirts of time. Mary was pleased it was still intact and run by the same family. She told Cas that the owner had been a close friend of her father’s and that rent had been taken care of until the end of time. Cas noted the hunter-friendly symbology on the gate as they entered. 

 

“John never knew about these,” she said, almost in a whisper as she spun the dial on the black combination lock, “I kept a lot of the kids’ things and photos here, hoping one day I could tell John about my past. I never did though.”

 

Cas nodded solemnly. She popped the lock and slid up the rusty door- employing Cas’s assistance when it got stuck halfway open. They coughed on the dust and stood back to let it settle. 

 

It was only a small space- one could fit a car in there, and not much else, or several medium sized boxes. The latter filled the room from floor to ceiling with a narrow path between the stacks. 

 

“Wow,” Mary whistled. “I really was hoarding stuff, wasn’t I? Hey have you seen that documentary show about people who hoard their stuff to the point of it killing them in some gross way? Man, tv is weird now. Like who would want a camera brought into their house and be followed around all day? Like, ew. I’d be mortified. But for some reason, I can’t stop watching it.”

Sometimes Cas was struck by how young Mary actually was, despite how her body had been rebuilt to reflect what it ought to look like now. 

 

They made their way around the boxes reading labels aloud and pulling a few to bring back. Mary had duplicate photo albums (the original having been destroyed in the fire), some baby clothes and toys, and Christmas decorations. 

 

“Here it is!” she exclaimed as she hefted down a ratty cardboard box and gently set it on the floor. It was labeled _X-mas tree_ and had several crudely drawn green triangle trees and something that could be a red sock all over the outside. Cas squinted at them and bent to get a closer look. He recognized the style. 

 

“Dean used to be such the little artist!” Mary said fondly. “Sometimes he would draw on whatever was handy- walls, boxes, the couch…”

 

Her smile slowly slid off her face. Cas subconsciously moved closer to her as she took a deep breath. “It’s like it was just yesterday,” she said softly, maybe more to herself, “and now…”

 

She cleared her throat and shook off whatever nostalgia had gripped her and pulled open the folded flaps of the box. There was a bundle of ancient tissue paper that she set to the side. Below were various ornaments and trinkets that she gasped and cooed over. Cas sat patiently on a wooden crate next to her while she helped herself remember. She pulled out a crystal dove of peace and sighed, holding it up to the light. “John gave this to me our first Christmas together. We had cut a tree down from the backyard- a poor little cedar with sparse branches. We laughed and called it our Charlie Brown tree. Do they even still have Charlie Brown?” She finally looked up at Cas. He smiled gently and nodded an affirmation. “Good. Wouldn’t be Christmas without Charlie Brown.” 

 

Tears spilled over onto her cheeks as she rubbed her thumb back and forth over the delicate crystal bird. “I really wish John was here. It’s like...like there’s a gaping hole in my gut. Like a massive chunk has been ripped out of me- I can’t...I can’t explain it. When you love someone, Cas, it’s like...you’re not complete or something when you can’t be with them.” She seemed to finally focus her sight on him as they sat in the quiet. 

 

“Have you ever been in love Castiel?” she asked. Cas inwardly cringed. He supposed she was just being polite by asking. Because she clearly knew that he had been quietly pining for Dean from the very first moment she had met him, holding him at gunpoint in the bunker. The hug was a dead giveaway. Cas had a weak moment and had thought Dean was dead. For good dead. Seeing him, he sprung into action and attacked the hunter like an octopus. The contact was glorious- warm and strong- and Dean had chuckled and held him just as tightly. 

 

Cas looked away from Mary to gather his wits. “I think you know the answer to that, Mary,” he said glumly, “and I know what you mean by there being a piece missing. And it seems to be getting worse. He has pushed me away...and this is not exactly something I am good at dealing with. I have all of popular culture inside my memory, but no way to apply the endless romantic tropes to my current situation. I suppose I should be grateful that I am even allowed to have Dean in my life. I have to accept that his friendship is all I will have, and it...it is enough.” Castiel cleared his throat at the painful resignation. “Excuse me.”

 

Cas stood up quickly and paced to the edge of the parking lot to watch the sky. The air was sharp and cold, but the sun felt good on his skin. 

 

“Hey Castiel?” Mary called across the lot, “come here- come see this.” She had a box on the hood of the truck and was shuffling through a few papers. Cas walked back over, head cocked in interest. There was a short stack of manilla construction paper, scribbled on with crayons, a few polaroids, and the Christmas angel. She was holding a small photo. 

 

“Castiel…” she said hesitantly, “what was your, um...vessel’s name?” 

 

Cas startled. He knew instantly what she was holding before he saw it. It was the photo she took when Dean was three and Jimmy was five. Dean was grinning at the camera, face open and happy, and there was Cas. Holding Dean’s hand and looking at him with affection and surprise. 

 

“It was your eyes. Something about your eyes,” she said, “I had seen Jimmy around the daycare before, talked with his mom regularly, but his eyes were never that blue before. I had never seen that color before...until I met you. I have to admit something, Castiel.”

 

Cas looked up from where he had been staring at the photo. He waited for her to continue.

 

“I didn’t know for sure, and I wanted to know absolutely for certain that it _was_ you, but this picture was my reason for coming all the way out here. I needed to see. But mostly I was praying it was here because you needed to see.”

 

“I-I, uh-” Cas coughed and tried again. “I was not supposed to meet Dean until I was to pull his soul from Hell. I was curious and wanted to see who this Righteous Man would be, so I came to Earth without orders. Jimmy Novak was a very ill young man. He allowed me to use his vessel in exchange for healing his cancer. In fact, I possessed him another time when he was older- he had been experiencing a deep depression during his first year in college... I did not possess the memory until I was resurrected-” Cas stopped himself before he could explain about becoming Emmanuel. “At the time I had been punished for my tryst to Earth and had my memory wiped.” 

 

Mary looked at him in horror. “They did that to you? The other angels?”

 

Cas chuckled ruefully. “Yes, not all are as...pleasant as I am. They are, in the words of Dean, ‘dicks with wings.’”

 

“But you never told Dean when you did remember?” Mary had her fingertips to her lip and her brows drawn together.

 

“No. I guess...the time wasn’t right. I was actually admitted to a psychiatric ward, but that was because… Nevermind, that is not of import. Then time just passed. As it always does.”

 

Mary grabbed Cas’s hands and held them in hers. “This is totally weird, because I still see Dean as my little boy- but I think he loves you too. I really do. I knew right away when I met you. He was so proud to introduce you to me, bragging about your harp-”

 

“I don’t have a harp-”

 

“Shh, don’t interrupt. I don’t know Dean the way you do, but I do know when I see love, and that boy loves you. You just need to tell him.”

 

Cas gently pulled his hands away. “You make it sound so simple, Mary, but there is so much between Dean and I, so many mistakes that-”

 

“Proves my point! If he didn’t love you, you wouldn’t still be with him!”

 

Cas chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Now who’s interrupting?”

 

Mary punched him lightly on the arm. “Time to get going. Help me load these up. We need to beat the snow. The ‘app’ on my phone said it wasn’t going to snow tonight, but those clouds say different.” 

 

Cas’s mouth quirked into a small smile. He liked her alot. She even used air quotes.


	3. Only 90's Kids Remember Smoking

********  
October 1994

 

Jimmy stared at the ceiling. If he didn’t get a move on, he was going to be late for Statistics and Analysis. Or miss it altogether. That seemed like a better option. A lot of things seemed like a better option than S&A. First thing that came to mind was death, but that required effort, and Jimmy had no will to move at that point. 

 

It had been like that for days. The semester had only begun and he was already feeling like he had fucked up the whole thing. It wasn’t so much being away from home (he wasn’t in a _completely_ foreign town, he had spent some time there as a child), it was an overwhelming sense of defeat. He wasn’t sure about his major, he wasn’t sure about his college choice, and he had felt the pressure nonstop for four years of high school (hell, his whole life) because he didn’t want to let his parents down. He had been given an amazing gift, a second chance at life, he had been miraculously cured of terminal cancer, so he was obligated to make his life the best and cherish every precious moment. Or so people keep telling him. It made him feel all the more guilty to be depressed. 

 

Jimmy rolled to his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He had been stuck in his room for three days, and knew it must be getting bad. He hadn’t even bothered to go to the cafeteria in that time, but wasn’t really hungry. He wasn’t tired, wasn’t sad, wasn’t angry. He wasn’t anything. 

 

For about the millionth time that week, he thought about the angel. It had happened so long ago; it was hard to tell if it had actually happened or not. He had told his parents when Castiel left that an angel had saved him, and they cried, but he wasn’t sure they took him seriously. And over the years, he stuck to his story, and they continued to think he had such a vivid imagination as a child, while heralding the success of the doctors as soon as they thought he was out of earshot. 

 

But he knew it was real. It had to be. He remembered the way Castiel had calmed his mind when he entered it, and how he reassured him that he would help him. He remembered the boy with the green eyes- a boy he went to daycare with- and flashes of going to his house and a Christmas tree. But most of all, he remembered the exact second when the pain left his body. It was as if someone had lifted a large rock from his stomach and he felt as if he could float away. He expected that feeling to leave when the angel left, but it didn’t. It turned out that it was just the way he was supposed to feel, all the time. 

 

Castiel was real.

 

He had thought many times of praying to him, but nothing seemed worthy enough to ask for help from an actual angel. 

 

But today might be different. Today, the images flashing through Jimmy’s head were disturbing and frequent. The urge to act on the thoughts was building, and he was caught between giving into it, and…maybe asking for help. Maybe. 

 

It’s not like he would show up. He was probably really busy or whatever. In fact, he probably wouldn’t think Jimmy was bad off enough to show up. And if he didn’t show? All the more reason to…

 

Jimmy slid off his bed to the floor. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to kneel to pray, but it ended up not mattering since his momentum took him face first into the carpet. He laid there, feeling as lost as he ever had been and prayed.

 

_Angel, um, I’m praying to the angel Castiel. It’s uh, Jimmy Novak, you know the kid that you saved from cancer that time? Yeah that was me. Anyway...I’m having a hard time right now. I know you must be pretty busy and stuff, but I...uh...could really- you know what? Nevermind. I guess it isn’t that important._

 

Jimmy found he didn’t have the will to get off the floor. It was fine. He could just chill there until the end of the world.

 

The lights flickered, causing Jimmy to roll to his back and frown. Could it be something? Nothing else happened. He sighed. Just a coincidence. Figures.

 

The lights flickered again, then the television switched on, filling the room with static and high pitched tones. Jimmy sat up quickly and stared at the screen. 

 

_Jimmy_

 

At first, Jimmy couldn’t speak. His mouth gaped open as he froze. He really hadn’t expected the prayer to work.

 

_Jimmy Novak, don’t be afraid. I am here to assist you._

 

Jimmy finally sucked in a breath and spoke in a rush. “Yesyoucanentermyheart…” He paused and tried again. “Angel Castiel, you may enter my heart. I...need your help.”

 

_Of course Jimmy_

 

The light over the bed and the lamp and television brightened and buzzed, sharp noises filling the air. At the same time, Jimmy felt a soft heat fill him from his core and a blue light surrounded him and he closed his eyes, his heart already feeling lighter. 

 

**

 

Dean burst through the double doors at the entrance of the school with a bang. The attached windows vibrated from the blow, but held. He stomped down the steps, his boots slapping loudly on the cracked gray concrete as he headed for the bus stop. 

 

It was never enough. He was never enough. It was bullshit and he had been wasting his time when he could have been killing things with dad. There were things far more important in this world than the Periodic Table of Elements, unless of course, you were one mean bitch named Ms. Reeves. She had humiliated him for the last time, and he was done. Most likely he wouldn’t be allowed to come back to school after flipping her desk over. They’d say he had “anger issues.” Just like the last school. 

 

Didn’t matter anyway; they were due to hop towns soon, and John so rarely gave a fuck what Dean did outside of hunting. As long as it didn’t draw attention to the family, that is. And he may have screwed the pooch on this one. 

 

It’s not he planned to tell Dad- he hadn’t even been home in a few days. There was always a concern that the school might try and contact him, but all they had were fake numbers. It wasn’t likely they would try and hunt him down. Who cared about a 16-year-old fuckup, anyway? 

 

Dean trudged down the street to the nearest bus bench. It was a bit windy, but at least it wasn't one of those hellish early Midwestern winters yet. So he was content to sit and wait for the next bus. The town wasn’t exactly large enough to have busses running every 20 minutes, but one would be along eventually.

 

Dean slouched down onto the unforgiving plastic seat. He contemplated lying down, but the last thing he needed was to attract the police. They might think he was a bum.

 

They weren’t far off. No really.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time they had stayed long enough anywhere for it to feel like home. Nothing felt like home. Maybe Uncle Bobby’s house- they had spent the summer there once, but his dad hadn’t had a lead in the Dakotas in some time, and they needed to conserve gas. 

 

It wasn’t fair. Especially to Sam. Dean felt like he was adult enough, hardened enough to deal with the nomadic lifestyle, but Sammy was still just a kid. If it wasn’t for Sam, Dean would have just left already. Head west or something. Maybe the beach. Find some hunts in Hollywood. There had to be plenty of monsters there. 

 

Dean chuckled to himself at that.

 

Then, the sound of fluttering wings. Dean whipped his head around and found a kid- maybe his age- standing by the bus bench, staring a hole into him. 

 

“Jesus, man, what the fuck!” Dean’s heart was thundering. The guy really had snuck up on him. He had a shock of messy black hair, a slight five o’clock shadow, and chapped lips. He was dressed strangely for a city street; sweats and a baggy t-shirt and no shoes. 

 

But it was his eyes. They were a bit unnerving. Not that Dean was scared. He had faced some of the most dangerous monsters on the planet _including_ vampires, and a guy in his jam jams shouldn’t fuck with his cool.

 

“Hey,” Dean said casually, looking away, “you waiting on the next bus downtown? Don’t know when it’ll show up, but have a seat, I’m sure it won’t be long.” Dean grimaced inwardly. Why did he sound like such a dork? He fumbled around in his shirt pocket and pulled out his pack of smokes and a lighter. The stranger sat down and turned his intense gaze away from Dean.

 

Dean cast a quick glance at his profile. Familiar? Did they go to school together? Dean didn’t really interact much with the other students- making friends was pointless when you were on the road after only being somewhere for six weeks. He lit a cigarette and held the pack out.

 

“You want one?” Dean asked. The stranger cocked his head at him slightly and pinned him with a searching gaze. There was something familiar about that that Dean couldn’t place. He took the offered smoke.

 

“Thank you, Dean.”

 

Dean jerked back and stared. He was pretty sure he hadn’t said his name- 

 

His hunter instincts kicked in. He slid his hand to the silver knife concealed in the back of his jeans.

 

“Don’t worry, Dean, I’m not here to hurt you. There’s no need for the knife.”

 

Dean studied the man’s face, his eyes tracing his brow, along his cheekbones, and resting for a second on his lips. Dean flushed and looked away.

 

“What are you? Some kind of witch?” Dean really fucking hated witches. But he really never had seen a witch that hadn’t been dressed to the nines and...wearing shoes.

 

“My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord. We have met before, but when you were much younger.”

 

Clearly this was just some escaped mental patient who had been following him around or something. That’s why he knew Dean’s name and that he kept a knife on him. Suddenly, that tension Dean felt - it was gone. A sudden sense of relief washed over him. He lit two cigarettes, handing one to the guy and taking a deep drag of his own.

 

“Look, man, that’s great and all, but I’m pretty sure I’d remember if we had met before. As for the angel shit, I don’t really buy into all religious crap. Now stop following me. I’d hate to have to hurt you.”

 

The man- Cas-something? Twitched his upper lip in what could be mistaken as a smile. “I am confident that you will not find the need to do so.” 

 

“Oh really? You sure do know a whole lot, don’t ya, smart guy?”

 

Cas’s brow furrowed, and he looked like a cute confused puppy again. (Wait- cute?)

 

“I have access to all the knowledge in the known Universe. However, technically, I am not a ‘guy,’ but I have no intention of causing you any harm.”

 

“Hey, dude, cool whatever floats your boat. How did you say you knew me?”

 

The blue-eyed man faintly smiled again and looked Dean over wistfully. “I believe you may not remember, as it was a traumatic year for you, but this vessel and I met you Christmas of 1982.”

 

Dean froze. “How do you know about that year- I mean 1983?”

 

Cas paused and tilted his head as if considering how to answer the question. 

 

“I know most everything about you, Dean. I am not supposed to be here, we are not supposed to meet until you are older and-” He hesitated, giving the other boy a wary look. “Let’s just say...my curiosity got the best of me.” Cas looked at his feet, then tried to hand back the unsmoked cigarette. “I probably shouldn’t have come.”

 

“No,” said Dean too quickly. He cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly. “No, it’s okay. I don’t know if you’re an angel like you say, but believe me, I’ve seen some crazy shit, so it’s not impossible, I guess.” Dean’s face reddened at his stumbling speech. It wasn’t very often that he had someone to talk to, really talk to, and not have to use euphemisms or evasions. Really, any conversation was awesome that didn’t include his dad barking orders at him or helping Sammy with his homework and explaining what boners are and to never talk about them again. The guys at the schools he ended up at were less than friendly- probably because they were jealous of the way he attracted so many of the ladies. 

 

“Thank you,” Cas said quietly. He took a puff from his smoke, not inhaling it, and stared at it like it had offended him. He pursed his lips in thought, his brow drawing together. His voice was low and gravelly, a bit of a shock coming from a guy who didn’t look much older than Dean. It was a nice contrast to the young face with rounded cheeks- they were flushed slightly and his eyes were framed by thick lashes, giving him an innocent look- 

 

Dean realized he had let the conversation lull while he ogled the angel next to him. _Little bit gay_ , he admonished himself, _but nothing wrong with finding another dude...aesthetically pleasing._

 

He was rather proud of himself for that thought. It made him feel very open-minded. He realized they had been staring at each other silently for several minutes. But somehow it wasn’t uncomfortable. Dean thought, _fuck it._

 

“I feel like running away,” he admitted abruptly, “you know, just leaving and starting over somewhere. I have about fifty bucks in my pocket, and that’s enough for a bus ticket west, so I could, you know, just go…” Dean blushed after being so honest about his feelings. But this guy was just some random angel or whatever, so it really didn’t matter.

 

“What about Sam?” Cas asked.

 

Dean started. “I guess you really do know everything about me,” he laughed. “I don’t know. Sure, Sammy’s just a kid, but he’d be okay... maybe dad will finally settle him down somewhere if I wasn’t there to take care of him.” A wash of guilt and shame rolled over Dean. He felt like such a piece of shit for saying that out loud. 

 

“I know it seems impossible, Dean, but you are all he has in this world. And he is...special. He will need your kindness and care to keep him on a righteous path. This is very important. I cannot not stress how important your presence in his life is. I cannot see into the future- I am not that class of angel- but from what I know, he plays a very important role in something very big. As do you.”

 

Dean snorted and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I can see Sammy doing great things, but I don’t know. I think I just dropped out of school. Not likely I’m gonna be much but a hunter. I guess that’s important to some people that I kill monsters. I’ve saved a few people. Not enough,” he corrected quickly, “but some.”

 

Castiel nodded. “It is something. That matters. You are worthy, Dean-” The angel paused mid-sentence and cocked his head. “Oh no,” he whispered.

 

There was a sound of wings and feathers flapping and two men in suits appeared in front of Cas and Dean. They were dressed impeccably in suits. Dean sprang to his feet and had his knife out in seconds. He felt it fly from his fingers as an invisible force pushed him back to sit down. 

 

Castiel stood slowly and narrowed his eyes. “Uriel. Mathias. What do you want?” he growled.

 

“Why Castiel,” the tall black guy grumbled, “is that any way to greet your brothers? We have just come to see if you require any assistance...what are you wearing?” The disgust was evident in his voice. 

 

Dean didn’t like the guy’s tone. He struggled to stand. He couldn’t budge and inch.

 

“Why don’t you fuck off and leave us alone, you dick,” Dean spat.

 

“Oh, the mud monkey speaks,” the man’s eyes never left Cas’s face. “Know your place, human.”

 

Dean could no longer talk. He struggled against invisible bonds.

 

Castiel gave his brother a menacing look. “Your orders are the same as mine. You cannot hurt him, Uriel.”

 

Uriel chuckled. “I didn’t plan on it, Castiel. But your orders were also not to interact before it’s time. September 18, 2008, I believe. I’d say you were a bit ahead of schedule.”

 

Cas took a few steps to the side to block Dean from the two suits. He blinked at the back of Cas’s messy head and was grateful. The anger radiating off these guys was intense. 

 

“Michael would be irate with you, Castiel,” Mathias finally spoke up. “There is risk of disrupting the timeline, and we cannot afford any mistakes.”

 

Cas deflated slightly. “I know, brother. I am sorry. I will come with you, just...please let me say goodbye.”

 

Uriel rolled his eyes and stepped forward, yanking Cas by the arm and handing him off to Mathias. Cas went willingly, and Dean was disappointed that Cas let these guys push him around. 

 

Uriel stood in front of Dean and shook his head, staring down at the young hunter with his lip arched in a sneer. “See you when you might be of some use for once in you short, pointless life.”

 

Dean’s stomach sank. The guy was right. He was an angel, after all, right?

 

“Dean, don’t listen to him,” Cas leaned around the larger angel to see the hunter’s face, “you are very important, you must take care of Sam and save people.”

 

Uriel huffed. “Oh yes, the other one. The tainted one. You will not be able to save him.”

 

Rage bubbled to the surface as Dean renewed his struggle. How dare this fucker say anything about Sam! He didn’t know him, Sam was awesome!

 

The angel reached out two fingers out toward Dean’s head. The hunter watched helplessly as fingers touched his forehead and-

 

Dean blinked as the bus’s air break hissed. He must had dozed off for a bit on the bench. He stood, stretching and popping his back before ascending the bus steps and riding back to the no-name motel in the no-name town.


	4. They Totally Do It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red-blooded American Smut

December 2016

 

Mary and Cas sat in the truck in front of the bunker for several minutes before going in. There was a 1970 Dodge Dart GTS V-8 parked in the drive. Mary sighed. The car should only be seven years old, but of course that wasn’t reality. This reality, anyway. Mary supposed the car belonged to Sam’s friend Eileen. The two kids had been communicating on their phones for some time, on Flashchat? Snapchat? Facechat? Some app that made it so they could manage to stay in contact long-distance. Mary had to concede that the internet was useful for that. Long-distance relationships were near impossible for hunters in her day- there was too much moving around and instability. She hoped Eileen liked her boy. It would be nice if he had someone. And she was excited to get to use the sign language she had been practicing since she learned about Sam’s possible girlfriend a month ago. 

 

Cas took a deep breath, breaking Mary from her reverie. “Mary, I don’t know about this. What if he becomes angry with me?”

 

“You just have to take that risk. Love isn’t about playing it safe. When I met John…” She paused and looked into the distance, remembering. “When I met John, I was willing to give up everything to be with him. To give up hunting for good. I am torn with regret about making a deal with that yellow-eyed demon that ended up hurting my entire family, but I couldn’t let him die. It is the most desperate move you can make, risking everything for the one you love.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Cas said softly, looking at his hands, “I have done some very foolish things because I...I love Dean. But I regret nothing.”

 

“So just get in there and tell him!” Mary grinned at him and started singing in a slightly off-key rendition of _Shoop Shoop Song._

 

“Is it in his eyes, oh no, that’s just his charm,  
In his warm embrace,  
Oh no, that’s just his arms!  
If you want to know if he loves you so,  
It’s in his kiss!  
(That’s where it is, oh yeah)”

 

Cas broke out into a grin and joined in.

 

“Whoa... hug him and squeeze him tight  
Find out what you want to know  
If it's love, if it really is  
It's there in his kiss”

 

They broke into giggles. Mary was once again grateful for Cas’s presence in her new life. They had some sort of connection she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was how much and how unconditionally he loved her boys.

 

“Betty Everett, 1964,” Cas said, still smiling. “Sometimes the wealth of pop culture information Metatron gave me can be quite pleasant.”

 

Mary nodded and grabbed the door handle. “It’s now or never, Castiel.”

 

He nodded and they got out of the truck and began to unload the boxes.

 

Cas took the stairs easily carrying three boxes stacked in his arms. Mary smirked, loving the whole angel strength thing. It was awesome. 

 

Dean was sitting in a chair pulled over from the library table and admiring his handiwork, beer in hand. Mary was glad he hadn’t switched to the hard stuff yet. The tension seemed to have left the room.

 

“Hey, mom,” he said over his shoulder, raising his beer as a salute. “Hey Cas. Did you stop and get beer?”

 

Cas winced and looked at Mary for help.

 

“Dean,” she said, using her Mom voice, “you’re a big boy, you can get your own beer.”

 

Dean chuckled and spun the chair around to face them. “Good point. Whatcha got there?” He tipped his head at the boxes Cas set on the table.

 

“A few mementos, old Christmas crap,” said Mary casually, “I wanted to look through some old photo albums and thought you might like to too.” 

 

Dean shot out of his chair, brushing past Cas to get at the boxes. “Albums? Seriously?”

 

Mary explained the storage space and John not knowing about it. Dean nodded thoughtfully.

 

Sam walked in from the kitchen holding the hair of a brightly smiling young woman. Mary clapped her hands and practically skipped over to meet them. Sam’s eyebrows shot up at his mom’s enthusiasm. Mary waved at Eileen and did her best to greet her in sign language.

 

_Hi! You must be the girl Sam is talking about all the time._

 

Eileen beamed and elbowed Sam who was sputtering a bit and blushing. 

 

_And you must be Mary,_ she signed, _Sam talks about you all the time too. Thanks for inviting me to spend Christmas with your family._

 

Mary grinned and pulled Eileen in for a hug. _You are welcome here anytime, right Sam?_ He nodded vigorously. _Tell me everything about you and I’ll tell you some really embarrassing stories about Sam._ Sam tried to get a word in, but Mary beat him to it. _I think it’s a thing moms do, right?_

 

Eileen was giggling so hard by that point, clutching Sam’s arm. Mary smiled at that. She was so glad he had found someone who so clearly cared for him. He looked very happy.

 

“What the fuck?” Dean’s voice broke through the merriment. They turned to look at him and Sam signed quickly to Eileen that they should go back to the kitchen. Mary took a few steps toward her eldest son and looked at Cas. It was time. She made a swift U-turn and followed Sam and Eileen to the kitchen. 

 

*******

 

Dean held the photograph in his fingertips. The edges had yellowed with age, but it had been kept dry, so the image was as sharp as it would have been the day it was developed. It was him, a three-year-old in a ridiculous red sweater, and a little boy in a brown corduroy jacket. He remembered that it had been corduroy because he had run his fingers over the texture as they sat at the kitchen table and ate cookies. The memory was very vague- he never could remember what the kid who came home from school looked like, but he remembered that he thought he was weird. But cool.

 

But it was Cas standing there. Unmistakably Cas. Cas wearing a small Jimmy Novak suit- but him nonetheless. He was looking at Dean and holding his tiny hand as Dean grinned at the camera. 

 

Dean looked up at Cas. The angel was sanding a few feet away, looking very uncomfortable, more so than usual. Dean waited for him to speak. 

 

Cas shuffled his feet and finally looked up at Dean. “I should have told you-”

 

“Damn right, you should have told me!” Dean interrupted, “I mean what the actual fuck, Cas?”

“Dean I-” 

 

“That’s you, isn’t it? Why didn’t you say something?”

 

Cas sighed heavily. “Are you going to let me speak?”

 

Dean balked and stepped back, again waiting for the angel to speak. It took a Herculean effort not to start yelling. He couldn’t believe it! He had known about Dean for that long? Why wouldn’t he say anything?

 

“Because I didn’t remember, Dean. Because...because they took you from me. Naomi and her...‘Revelation’...I didn’t remember until the hospital. With you and Meg.”

 

Dean cringed at the two names- one made him feel rage, and one made him feel absurd jealousy. “Why didn’t you say something then?” Dean asked weakly, already knowing the answer. Cas was out of commission for a while and then Purgatory. And then Naomi. Shit. He had no business being mad about any of it. 

 

Cas said nothing.

 

“I wish we could bring back Naomi and kill her again,” Dean said wearily. Cas grimaced then nodded. 

 

The silence stretched out between them. Dean felt the sudden need to reach out to him.

 

Instead, he pulled out the tree angel and walked over to Cas. “You want to help me put it up?”

 

Cas nodded in surprise. Dean handed him the angel and yanked the chair close for Cas to stand on. The angel was placed on the tree by the angel. Dean chuckled. Cas raised an eyebrow from his perch on the chair. Dean held out his arm chivalrously and Cas hopped down, staring at Dean’s extended arm in confusion. Dean shrugged and smiled. Cas returned the smile. 

 

Dean got an idea. “Okay, stand right there, don’t move.” Cas did so dutifully as Dean quickly crossed the room. He switched off the lights in the library, filling the room with only the brightly colored lights from the tree. It was beautiful. Dean came back to stand with Cas.

 

“There’s something else,” the angel said, “I should mention that I also visited when you were 16, but Michael’s soldiers came and retrieved me and I was punished for my misbehavior.”

 

Dean frowned. “And that was when Naomi...?” Cas nodded. “What did we do when you visited me?”

 

The angel hesitated. “I might be able to retrieve the memory- I’m not sure I have the ‘mojo’ to do it. It might come out all jumbled up.” Dean nodded. Cas put his two fingers to Dean’s head and there was a flash of brilliant blue light as Dean was thrust into a torrent of memories. 

 

_Walking home from school with Cas in hand._

_Sitting on a bus bench and looking fondly at the angel._

_Some angels in suits tearing the angel away from him._

_Hell. A bright blue light wrapping around him and pulling him away from the horrors and telling Dean he deserved more._

_The mirrors shattering at the motel._

_The barn, the knife in the chest, the impressive wings._

_The playground and questioning faith, Bobby’s house, the Beautiful Room, killing Alistair, being pushed against the wall of an alley, the side of the road, I always come when you call, Don’t ever change, hey assbutt, the new sheriff in town, and then…_

_Everything shifts. Dean raking leaves in the backyard of Lisa’s. Seeing himself from Cas’s perspective. Longing. Why didn’t he stay?_

_Hiding from Dean. Lying to Dean. Longing for Dean. Keeping secrets from Dean._

_“My people skills are rusty.” Longing for Dean._

_Leviathan, Sam’s lost soul, being God, letting Dean down. Longing for Dean._

_Emmanuel, seeing Dean’s face, finally remembering Dean. All of Dean. Every memory, every one of Dean._

_Longing for Dean._

_Purgatory. Naomi. I need you Cas, I’m sorry Dean._

_Every touch, every look, every embrace, losing him, finding him, Dean, Dean, Dean…_

_Through Cas’s eyes, then through Dean’s eyes, back and forth, the need reflected, the desire bared, the longing…_

_The rejection._

_The sacrifice._

_The need._

_The desire._

_The truth._

 

Dean blinked his eyes open, from his place where he had fallen to the floor. Cas was cradling him and looking stricken.

 

“Dean, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen-”

 

“It’s- It’s okay,” Dean said, not moving, finding comfort in the embrace. He had always found comfort in Cas’s arms. 

 

Cas looked away from him, clearly ashamed. “I am sorry, Dean. I’m sure that was...much to contend with.”

 

“Much,” Dean scoffed, with no ill intent behind it, “I guess...I guess it really isn’t anything I didn’t already know. I mean...I was there for most of it…” His joke fell flat.

 

Cas was silent and still looking away. Dean could feel the warmth radiating from the angel, soothing him, grounding him. He tentatively reached a shaking hand up to Cas’s chin and turned his face to meet Dean’s again. The vivid clear blue bore into Dean for maybe the millionth time, and as usual, a shiver ran up Dean’s spine. He was sure Cas felt it this time. Hell, maybe he’d felt it every time. 

 

They were so close. And everything was out there for the world to see. There was nothing and everything between them at that moment. Dean’s hand burned where it touched Cas’s chin as he slowly pulled his face toward him until their lips touched.

 

It was a simple rest of skin on skin, something Dean had encountered countless times, often good, often a promise of more- but this wasn’t so simple. It was no promise. It ran deeper than that. It was fundamental. It was built into Dean’s very cellular structure- the cells that had been rebuilt by Cas after pulling his damaged soul from Hell. They had been orbiting around each other for years, longer than they had known, drawing ever closer, the two of them powerless to derail the path of this destiny. The Apocalypse could be diverted, the Devil could be locked in a cage, and God Himself could change his mind and seek the forgiveness of his sister, but as the world survived, so survived the love that Dean felt and would always feel for Castiel. It was, after all, fundamental.

 

Cas breathed in and and added pressure, moving against Dean’s lips, gently and reverently. They parted to look at one another, panting and flushed just from the short contact. Cas looked back at Dean in disbelief, as if the man would suddenly disappear. As if Dean could ever leave Cas. 

 

But he had. And Cas had left him. And they made mistake after mistake, and left one another behind. Everything and nothing between them. In this moment they could still choose to leave. They could still choose to pretend like this hadn’t happened and go back to their respective orbits, back to the safety of their fear. Of their denial. 

 

“Fuck that,” Dean whispered, pulling Cas back in hard and fast by the collar, crushing their mouths together, parting Cas’s lips with his tongue. Cas’s arms tightened around Dean’s back and drew him in closer, allowing Dean to plunder his mouth, moaning softly. Dean could feel Cas’s length harden as it pressed into his side. He let out a moan and pushed against it, causing Cas to gasp and grind back. In one fluid movement, Dean rose up and spun on his knees and pushed Cas down to the carpet, straddling his legs. Cas kept his determined eyes trained on Dean’s face. There was no fear there. Dean found no fear in himself, just the relief of arriving home after a long and arduous journey.

 

The kisses grew more desperate and heated, and Dean felt himself grow to full hardness. The need aching in his gut was beyond intense. He wanted to absorb Cas; wanted the angel to melt into him, by osmosis, until their cells melded as one, as close as they could become.

 

He was almost shocked (but not really) that he wanted Cas inside him.

 

Dean was suddenly aware of their surroundings and had to quell the urge to rip their pants off and sink down onto Cas’s cock, preperation be damned.

 

“Dean,” Cas gasped out when the hunter ground his hips down, pressing delicious friction into the angel, “perhaps we should- unhhgh...move to your- oh ahhh...your room.”

 

Dean scrambled up, not giving a damn about looking cool or suave to the angel- the need was too strong. He pulled Cas off the ground and barely waited for him to get his footing before practically running to the barracks, and on to Dean’s room. He didn’t even care that they had to pass the kitchen and the prying eyes of his family. The need, the need, the need…

 

They dashed past the kitchen, Cas waving a little, but Dean didn’t even acknowledge them, his directive clear. He needed Cas inside him, and now.

 

They stumbled through the door to Dean’s room, mouths already seeking each other, limbs and hands gripping and pulling at clothing. Kisses only broken to remove shirts and awkwardly balance to pull off socks and shoes. Dean was torn between stopping and going slow so he could expose every inch of Cas and taste it, and giving in to the _need_ that rippled through his very soul. The need to be penetrated, taken by Cas. 

 

Cas cut his thoughts off when he suddenly lifted Dean, licking and sucking his neck, and wrapping Dean’s legs around his waist to lock ankles behind him. Dean shuddered at Cas being able to support all of their combined weight- something significant about that, he knew it- but all he could feel was the contact of skin, the muscles moving against each other, the slickness of sweat and precome making them slide alongside each other. Dean threw his head back and Cas licked him from his collarbone to behind his ear. Dean could feel the shift of power, and gave control willingly to Cas.

 

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas breathed into his skin.

 

“Need, need…” was all Dean could manage.

 

“You need me to…” Dean swore he could hear a smirk in his voice.

 

“Ineedyouinsideme,” Dean rushed out.

 

“What was that? You said you need me…?”

 

Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I need you inside...me.”

 

Cas groaned deep in his chest, his cock pulsing against Dean’s stomach. He turned and pressed Dean against the wall, resting his forehead on the hunter’s. Cas’s hands were clutching Dean’s ass cheeks, spreading them slightly to hold him aloft, and they began to knead the flesh there as their mouths slotted together, this time slower, deeper, and Dean could feel the longing radiating off of the angel. He wanted to take it from Cas and destroy it for good. Give him what he so longed for. All of himself he would give to Cas. 

 

Cas shifted to support all of Dean’s weight on one hand and brought his fingers up and broke the kiss to suck them. Dean pulled them from Cas’s mouth and sucked them into his own. He watched as Cas directed his laser focus on Dean’s mouth wrapped around those digits being swirled by the hunter’s desperate tongue. When they were dripping with saliva, Cas removed them and attacked Dean’s lips, biting and licking, and sucking on his tongue. The thrusts of Cas’s tongue matched those of his pelvis as he brought the slick fingers around and slid them along Dean’s cleft, making no attempt to tease, and press them against his furled entrance. Dean thought had this ever happened, he would cringe or shy away, but all he did was moan and push back.

 

Cas chuckled at the hunter’s eagerness and breached him up to the second knuckle in one smooth movement. Dean knew enough to bear down, expanding the ring of muscles for Cas’s finger to slip further. He knew he was digging his fingers into Cas’s shoulders hard enough to bruise, but that seemed far away and unimportant when Cas began to move his finger in and out and pull at his rim to stretch it.

 

Dean let out a desperate moan into the angel’s mouth, reaching between them to grip both of their slick cocks to relieve the pressure a bit. It felt so good, so right, to have even a small part of Cas _inside him._

 

But he needed-

 

“More,” he gasped out.

 

Cas pulled him flush and pivoted, laying him on the bed, never removing his finger from its explorations and pushing the hunter’s knees up and open with his free hand. In the new position, Dean felt the finger brush over a spot that made him arch his back and cry out, precome dripping from his swollen and darkened cock. 

 

Cas watched with darkened eyes, leaning over him, studying Dean’s reactions and licking his lips. Dean was coming apart, his eyes falling shut and struggling to stay open to watch Cas watching him. Cas shifted and moved down Dean’s body, sucking faint marks along the way, all the while pushing in a second finger and continuing to pump in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. Dean writhed and babbled, asking for _harder_ and _more._

 

Cas ignored his pleas and continued his descent down the hunter’s body until his mouth was hovering over Dean’s cock. Dean leaned up and watched with hooded eyes as Cas licked his lips again and left them wet to lower and-

 

Dean practically shouted when Cas swallowed him down in one movement. Dean felt himself nudge every ripple on the roof of Cas’s mouth, the edges of his back molars, and finally the soft but firm heat of the back of his throat. And then Cas pushed further down. Dean opened his mouth in a silent scream, realizing that Cas had just pushed in a third finger, lubed in more saliva, and simultaneously pressed the the base of Dean’s cock to keep him from coming. Slowly, Cas sucked and swallowed, rising off Dean and bobbing slightly, but thankfully stopping when Dean pulsed out another flood of precome. He couldn’t believe he had held on this long without coming and wildly thanked god that he had jerked off that morning in the shower. Or this would have been over in the library, in his jeans no less.

 

Cas popped all the way off and pulled his fingers out, his body glistening and chest heaving as he looked down at Dean as if he were the main course and Cas was about to _feast._ Dean whimpered without shame, ready to beg.

 

He waved a tingling and weak hand in the general direction of his bedside table, and fortunately that was enough for Cas to drag Dean further up the bed and reach over to get the bottle of lube that resided in the drawer. 

 

Dean closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he listened to the sounds of Cas pouring lube over his fingers and warming it. Dean pulled his legs up further, opening his eyes again to watch as Cas smeared lube all over Dean’s hole. Cas’s eyes widened in amazement as he watched his three fingers slip and slide into Dean, pushing more lube into him as well.

 

Cas really seemed to know what he was doing. Dean felt a renewed heat in his belly when he pictured Cas sitting in his room alone- or Dean’s room on his bed- watching gay porn and touching himself and shouting out Dean’s name as he came. Dean shook his head. This was far from a new fantasy, but if he thought about it too much he would come immediately. 

 

Cas pulled his fingers away again to slather the remaining lube on his straining and dripping erection. Dean had to close his eyes against the sight; he was already so close to the edge and it just brought back the reality of what was about to happen. This, that Dean had fantasized about, lying in this very bed, while shoving his own fingers into his greedy hole and shouting his orgasms into the pillow as he painted the sheets over and over.

 

“Dean, look at me.”

 

Dean’s eyes flew open at the demand and Cas leaned in to kiss him softly as he pressed himself against Dean’s swollen and stretched hole, not stopping, slowly pushing until he breached then encased himself in the tight, hot center of Dean. It burned in a good way, a slight pain that magnified the pleasure.

 

There he paused.

 

Dean felt the last of his preservation shatter. The need melted away to nothing, lost to the way Cas’s pelvis was flush with the back of his thighs. They rested their foreheads together again. Breathing heavily, not moving, trying to reconcile the reality of the moment. _Cas was inside of Dean_ just where he belonged. 

 

“I love you,” Dean heard himself say.

 

Cas raised his head in shock, his face a mixture of relief, disbelief, and joy. He stuttered then cleared his throat. Dean could feel the vibrations deep within himself and shuddered and clenched down on Cas’s cock involuntarily. The angel thrust forward once in surprise, causing them both to groan. He ground his hips down, twisting them slightly, pulled out halfway and thrust again. Dean grunted and scrabbled at Cas’s shoulders for purchase to thrust back. Cas slammed into him, establishing a rhythm, and pulled Dean’s legs down and wrapped them back around his waist. The angle made him hit Dean’s prostate every few strokes, bringing him further to the edge. He cried out, begging Cas to let him come, and the angel mercifully balanced on one hand and brought the other between them to grip Dean’s neglected member and stoke him to completion. The orgasm had been building for so long, when it hit him, it was like being hit by a train- sudden, hard, fast, and without warning. His back arched off the bed somehow as he screamed silently and pulsed out splatters of come on his belly and Cas’s hand. The angel didn’t break rhythm as he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked Dean’s come from his fingers. Dean was spasming and clenching Cas as he rode out the remainders of the aftershocks, his cock spent against his belly, twitching at the sight of Cas’s tongue lapping up his come obscenely. “Fuck…” he whispered, and Cas’s eyes rolled closed as his hips stuttered and he slammed one more time into Dean’s over-sensitive hole, filling him with hot come. Dean could feel every pulse, every ridge and vein on Cas’s throbbing cock as he released into him. Cas fell forward, catching Dean’s lips and murmuring, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” between kisses, touching the hunter’s face as though he were sacred.

 

**

 

Dean woke some time later, without remembering how he had fallen asleep. Cas must have cleaned them up judging by the dampness but not stickiness of his abdomen, and the blankets wrapped around them. He reached back between his and Cas’s bodies where he was spooning the hunter, and felt his asshole. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt, but it still felt stretched out. Stretched but sated. Dean shifted his fingers again and found Cas’s softened member and moved it to lay in his crevice. Cas mumbled in his sleepiness and pushed his hips forward a little, sliding his now hardening cock up and down and waking up further.

 

“Again already, Dean?” Cas grumbled out. 

 

Dean grinned to himself. He had at least two more in him. He wanted to take his time this time, maybe suck a dick for the first time in his life, maybe lick at Cas’s rim and finger him, and greedily drink his come down his throat. 

 

“Ungmf, Dean, stop thinking so loud. I’ll spill on your back if you keep that up.”

 

“It’s okay,” Dean chuckled, “then we’ll just have to go again.”

 

Cas lifted slightly and leaned over Dean to look him in the eyes. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

 

********


End file.
